Jumpy much?

Survived the day. Only to come home to an unfamiliar person next door. New neighbor? I have NO idea. I know there was a lot of noise, as they were scrapping the empty unit out for junk. I kept post looking out the window, absolutely paralyzed by the noise.

House cleaning was…house cleaning. A vile necessary evil, which got me a step closer to buying my kid’s Easter. Every time I clean for his wife I am confuzzled by the edict “clean the window sills and dust the picture frames”. People have energy to fuss about such things, really? I’m lucky if my kid and I make it out the door with our hair brushed and WINDOW SILLS BEING CLEAN are a big deal? I am such a defective, apparently.

At the shop, R was telling me about his middle daughter handing him five hundred books for “overage on the wedding” and when he refused it, she said, “You didn’t raise slackers, take the money.” Which of course fed his ego to no end. And while I know not everything is a dig at me, it still felt like one because it made me think about the people who have helped me out financially over the years and I STILL haven’t been in a position to repay them. I feel like such an utter waste of fucking space. He didn’t say it, but I still felt it, and I wonder: IS it just me? Or am I just making a preemptive strike because I KNOW this is how people like him view me?

I admit it, I have fucked up ad nauseum. I have made debts I couldn’t cover and still count. But I am trying so very hard to be different, to be better. Why doesn’t it seem to count for shit?

This is one of bad effects of being off Xanax. I know it might seem like I use it as a crutch, but I really don’t. I do have a guilt complex from hell, my mother being the travel agent for guilt trips and all…But every time I cut myself an ounce of slack, it seems something pops up to remind me I am inept, a loser, a waste of space. This manifests as paranoid anxiety, and it is living hell.

At one point today, I was actually thinking that I am okay if I die right now because face it, I have done NOTHING with my life except prove to be a drain on society.

I remind myself that I have been part of bringing a wonderful little person into the world…but then my brain says SO FUCKING WHAT, YOUR REPRODUCTIVE ORGANS DID THEIR JOB JUST LIKE THOSE OF EVERY HUMAN WHO HAS A KID, BIG FUCKING DEAL!

It’s like for some reason, I can’t cut myself any slack. Because I don’t believe that others do. I KNOW they talk about me behind my back, pondering how a woman gets to be 4o years old and have a kid and still can’t pull her shit together enough to GET A JOB.

I am sure most would say I am being paranoid.

I have let go of my paranoia often enough to have it bite me on the ass to not care what *most* would say.

I feel so scattered, so jumpy, so paranoid and on edge… It’s difficult to breathe.

Rs granddaughter’s birthday party is tomorrow and I got a gift and I plan on taking Spook… But I told R earlier that I was nervous because there would be people there I have never met before. And he said “I don’t know why you’d be nervous.”

It hit me like a blow to the solar plexus to realize just how alone I am. No one GETS the anxiety disorder or panic. I have told R no fewer than five times this week how high strung I am because of the shrink taking away my xanax. and every time he asks, “Why, what;s wrong.” Because, ya know, remembering what I have already told him half a dozen times would be too fucking hard.

And R has voiced numerous times due to our past relationship about how he could handle me now if I had been that way THEN…But in the last few weeks he had made allusions to how I haven’t really changed that much.

THAT is a mortal wound. Because my personality and mentality and maturity HAVE changed drastically.

But I am defined only by my disorders and how they might effect others.

Bloody hell.

I drove my car all day feeling like something was “wrong” even though I checked all fluids and the gauges were normal.

The other night, when I told my kid she had to stop wallowing the girl kitties because they “had babies in their bellies”… my kid asked me if I had babies in my belly.

And the stupid paranoia and panic receptors went into hyperdrive.

Because even at my thinnest, I have had tactless rude people ask if I am pregnant.

And I became convinced someone was talking about how fat I am and that I look preggo and they were telling as much to my kid.

With two preggo cats and my edict, it makes sense she would ask what she did.

BUT with my psychotically paranoid brain dictates otherwise. It MUST be nefarious. It MUST be insulting.

FUCK MY BRAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i love my daughter but sometimes…I swear I am actually okay with dying. Because I believe she would be better off without me in her life, dragging her down, via the judgments of others who just don’t get mental illness.

And then paranoid brain starts telling me I’m not mentally ill, I am just weak and lazy and I deserve whatever scorn comes my way…

I’m tired.

Sooo very tired.

Why won’t my brain shut up?Or at least give me permission to cut myself some slack since I am trying so very hard to do better?